[5] AMNA

A M N A

I'm lying on the floor, the cold floor piercing through my bare skin, and I can only think of how frustrated I'm. Tahira continues yelling and reigning insults at me, and I continue staring at her. The stare that says, 'when you're exhausted, you'll let me be'.

"Stop looking at me, or I'll gouge your eyes out." I'm not at all scared of Tahira's treat. She can threaten me forever, but I still won't back down. She humiliates me this much and still wants to take my eyes away. My dress and veil is partly soaked with the soup Tahira poured over my head when she crunched a stone. I didn't prepare the food, I only served her, but she took all the anger out on me.

She leaves the door open intentionally, other maids passing by sees how I am being maltreated, but no one dares to stop Tahira. "... Stop staring at me like that!" she yells bitterly, "or I will be forced to hit you." I still didn't back down. She extends her balled fist; I shut my eyes tightly, eagerly waiting for the feel of her palm on my cheek and the stings that follows.

"Tahira" A deep voice calls out. I already feel whiffs of air close to my cheek, but the slap never comes. Only the tip of her fingers collides with my face lightly. She glares at me then turn to the caller of her name.

"You're back, my husband." A smile replaces the frown on her face. I'm looking down at the floor now, I can't see their expressions. I can only hear their voices.

"Yes, I'm, and who is this?" I know he must be pointing or looking at me.

"She's just the useless maid who made me chug sand down my throat." I fight all my nerves to prevent me from telling her that I'm not useless, and I didn't feed her sand. "Do I need to ask you to get out of my room?" I expect to hear the crown prince-zayd- caution her actions, but nothing comes.

I pick my long dress in my hands and rush out of her room. If possible, evacuate out of the palace entirely. No matter how patient one is, everyone has their limits. Therefore, people's emotions shouldn't be toyed with, but Tahira just toyed with mine.

I rush through the hallway, my vision blurs because of the tears already forming in my eyes. I can't see where I'm running towards, but I know I've to be far away from Tahira, far from everyone. I rest my back on the wall when I stop running. I slowly slide my body down the wall until I was sitting on the floor.

I duck my face in between my raised knee and I cry. I cry my heart out, I converted all my frustrations into fluid, into tears. I hear the sound of footsteps on the floor, but I ignore it. I'm overwhelmed by something else-my emotions.

I stop crying, but I'm still whimpering. My head hurts a lot. I know the reason for my tears is partly not because of Tahira's maltreatment. Occasionally we need tears to ease the pain we can't say to anyone except our creator. We talk to him and connect with him while in tears, and he hears it all.

I finally raise my head up and rub my palm on my face. I use the hem of my dress-my worn out old looking gown-to clean any remnant of tears on my face. I'm about to stand up, when I see someone standing close to me, but not close enough.

He wasn't here when I came.

He's in a guard uniform. I'm about to leave, but he stretches his hand. His hand isn't bare, there's a plain small white clothing in it. I'm hesitant to collect it, but it doesn't look like he's going to back down. I collect the clothing from him, and then he tucks his hand into his trouser pocket.

"Thank you." I say cleaning my face properly with the cloth. I see he's not attempting to leave, so I ask him, "How long have you been here?"

He looks down at his feet, he's avoiding my eyes. "Not long..." he shrugs, "just when you started crying."

It is embarrassing knowing there was someone experiencing my breakdown moment. I like coming off as a tough and fearless lady, ironically I'm not—I'm, but I have my breaking point. "Thanks for the cloth." I sniff, then hand his cloth back.

"You can keep it." He crosses his legs while still standing, and silence takes over. "uhhm... sorry... about... the... incident... uhmm" He's reluctant to say how I was humiliated.

"You don't need to apologize on her behalf, I'm fine" I smile. "Thanks once again ..."

"Haider,"

"Shukran Haider." I bow my head then walk away from him.

****

"Subhanallah Amna, I've been looking around for you." Dalia pulls me into a hug when I get in front of my room-the room I and Dalia shares. She breaks the hug and quickly cups my face in her warm hands. "Are you hurt... did she hurt you..? Are you fine?" pity is swirling in Dalia's eyes. I gently pull her hands away from my jaw.

"I'm fine, Dalia... how did you know?"

"News spread like plague in the palace Amna... I was very worried when I heard."

"I'm fine now, as you can see." I smile so Dalia will stop worrying.

"Are you sure?" she looks unsure of what I said to her.

"Yes I'm, mum." She laughs. She hates when I call her mum, but calling her mum in this situation means I'm fine, and she should stop worrying.

"I don't understand why—"

"Amna," I and Dalia turn to the person standing close to me. "salam alaykum, I'm sorry for cutting into your conversation." Aisha smiles, she's the Amira's chief maid and her room is opposite ours—I and Dalia's.

"Walaykum salam." I and Dalia reply in unison.

"The Amira wants to see you, Amna."

"Okay, I'll be there." I say, she bid us goodbyes then leaves.

"Let me see the Amira, I'll be back soon."

"Okay, but please stay safe and be fine... please." Dalia pleads, I wave her then find my way to the Amira's chamber.

****

"Walaykum salam... how're you doing?" The Amira says. She is sitting on a chair, braiding her jet black straight hair that stops at the middle of her spine.

"I'm fine, Alhamdulillah." I pray she doesn't ask me about today's incident. I don't want to talk about it any more. I pray she called me here for another purpose.

"I realize I didn't get to thank you for how you helped me the last time." She ties a silver ribbon to the end of the single braid on her head.

"That isn't a problem, Amira. I'm happy I helped you" I lower my head until she gestures for me to stand erect.

"You can call me Khadijah... I'm not older than you are" I stare at her like she just asked me to cut her heads off,

"But—"

"Yes, I know the rules. You can call me Khadijah when we are alone." That's much better.

"Okay... kha..dijah?" I say reluctantly. Calling the Amira's name to her face feels absurd, but I'll do so since she asks me to.

"Yes, Khadijah... what's your name?" she has risen from her seat and she motions towards me.

"I'm... I'm... my name is Amna," I stammer and take a step back. I don't know why I'm stepping back, but I take another step, backwards. Her stare is a bit scary, and she's staring at me intently.

She pulls me by my hand, stopping me from taking any other step. "Why are you afraid, Amna?" she smiles, and I calm down a bit. The smile on her face makes her look less scary. "Let's seat on my bed."

She continues pulling me with her until we get to her bed. Since she's taller, she pushes my shoulder down until I'm sitting on her bed and ya Allah her bed is so soft. I've sat on Tahira's bed a lot of times when she isn't there, but this is much softer than hers. This can't be compared to the wood we sleep on in the maid's quarters.

We are sitting facing each other, and she continues staring at me again, but this time she is smiling.

"You're beautiful," she's still smiling, but it's wider, "and you have blue eyes."

"Thank... you." I blink repeatedly. I'm confuse as to why she's suddenly complimenting me.

"You're welcome." She continues smiling and staring at me, and I'm looking at—the framed Quranic verse hanging over her bed, her vanity table—anywhere but her eyes.

"You know my brother, right?" she asks with a smirk on her face.

"Your brother?"

"Yes Jawad." My heart is beating wildly against my chest.

did he report to her that I barged into his room? Oh no, I pray he didn't.

"Yes, I know him. He's the Amir." I say as calm as I can, but if she's very attentive, she'll hear the shakiness in my tone.

"I don't mean do you know him as the Amir, do you know him as Jawad?" I don't understand what she means, but I answer.

"No, I know him as the Amir."

"So, you mean you've never talked to him?" she arches her brow,

"No, no, I've talked to him." I answer quickly. Sometimes I hate how hyperactive I'm. My mouth talks before my brain realizes I am not supposed to say that.

"Oh." she's smiling again, wider than ever before, "so you've talked to him."

"Does greeting count as talking?"

"Yes it does, as long as it involves you two." She's talking in parables now because I don't understand what she means by 'you two.'

"Two?"

"You don't have to worry about that, only I can understand that." Okay, I'm more curious now. "Did you hear about the bridal selection that will hold soon?"

"Yes I did." why is she asking me about that, the Amira is proving to be a hard nut to crack.

"Okay, I know this girl..." I concentrate fully to see where she's heading to. "She's a friend of mine; I think she'll be a good match for Jawad." My face falls when I hear that, I hope she doesn't notice. I'm no more smiling, and I want to leave the room badly. "She's petite and has a creamy skin, long wavy hair..." she stares at me, "and she has green eyes, light green... do you think she'll be a good match for Jawad?"

I almost thought she was referring to me, but when I hear the green eyes, all my hopes demolished. I have no green eyes, mine are blue-light blue.

"Yes she'll." My voice is extremely low, I force a tight smile.

"Are you okay?" Khadijah brought her face closer to mine.

"Yes I'm fine..." I chuckle nervously, "I'm very fine."

"Okay... she'll be present on that day... I'm going to tell her all Jawad's likes and dislikes" she looks at the ceiling dreamily. "They will make a great couple." She holds my hands in hers and shakes it while giggling like she expects me to be happy, but I'm far from happy, I'm very far from happy, and I can't fake happiness, so I stop trying to fake a smile. "I forgot to ask, are you also participating."

"Me! No, I'm not participating..." I snort loudly, "why will I... I don't like the prince... I mean I don't like the prince in that way, but like him as the prince, so no I'm not." I hope she doesn't get me wrong.

"You're not?"

"Yes, I'm not." I press my lips against each other tightly.

"Because if you're, I'll tell you of his likes and dislikes instead of my friend." The idea of knowing his likes and dislikes entices me, but I just denied participating, and I don't want her to think I'm smitten or something.

"I'm not participating."

"Okay then. I'll tell my friend, I pray she wins insha Allah." Even though I don't wish for her friend to win, I still mutter 'Ameen' to her prayers.

A voice inside me asks 'why don't you want her to win?', I ask myself that same question, and I'm short of answers.

I don't want her to win because... because...

It can't be because I want to win, but another voice yells it can.

I bid Khadijah goodbyes and I walk towards the maid quarters. The day hasn't ended yet, and I've already had two depressing moment. First Tahira humiliated and embarrassed me, secondly the Amira tells me of her friend she's hooking with the prince.

Can the day get any better?